Dema wasn’t like the other dogs at the shelter. He knew it. He’d seen the way people looked at him – a quick glance, a slight frown, then their eyes would drift to a fluffier puppy or a more conventionally handsome hound. His fur was a rough, wiry mix of browns and greys, his ears were slightly mismatched, and a small scar ran across his nose, a memento from a life before the shelter, a life he barely remembered. He knew he wasn’t a picture-perfect pup. He knew he looked, as some had whispered, “ugly.”
He’d watch the families walk through the kennels, their faces lighting up as they stopped at the cages of other dogs. He’d see the smiles, the gentle coos, the outstretched hands. Then, they’d pass his kennel, their expressions changing, a flicker of pity or even distaste crossing their faces. He’d lower his head, his tail giving a small, hesitant thump against the concrete floor.
He’d often retreat to the back of his kennel, curling up into a tight ball, a quiet sigh escaping his lips. He didn’t understand why his appearance mattered so much. He had a good heart. He was gentle, affectionate, and eager to please. He longed for the same love and attention that the other dogs received.
Today, however, felt a little different. He’d overheard the shelter staff talking about “birthdays” and “treats,” and he’d noticed a slightly more festive atmosphere in the air. He didn’t understand the human concept of birthdays, but he sensed it was something special.
He sat patiently by the front of his kennel, his tail giving a tentative wag. He watched as people walked by, his eyes searching for a flicker of kindness, a sign of acceptance. He knew he wasn’t the prettiest dog, he knew he looked “ugly,” as he’d heard them say, but today…today he dared to hope.
He thought, It’s my birthday…maybe, just maybe, someone will see past my looks. Maybe someone will see me for who I am inside. He closed his eyes for a moment, picturing a gentle hand stroking his fur, a kind voice whispering his name.
He didn’t expect a big party or fancy presents. He didn’t expect to be chosen for adoption, not today, maybe not ever. He just hoped for a small gesture, a kind word, a gentle touch. He hoped that on this day, his birthday, people could look past his outward appearance and send him good wishes, not for his looks, but for the loving heart that beat within him. He hoped that even an “ugly” dog deserved a little bit of birthday love.
